


Sinners: Assemble! (hiatus)

by Gyre_and_Gimble



Category: A Date With Markiplier - Fandom, Heist with Markiplier, Markiplier Story World, The Ned Affair, The Warfstache Affair, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, BDSM elements, Celine (mention), Consent, Damien (mention), Dark and Warfstache history, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Fantasy World Building, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Masturbation, Memory, Mind Reading, Multi, Older And Wiser, Power Play, Self-Discovery, Self-Love, Slow Burn, The Manor, Vaginal Sex, Who Killed Markiplier?, canonical, dubcon sometimes, memory problems, noncanonical, self-hate, shared mind, trauma/abuse (mention), unlearning hate, world building, yes I know those terms are literal opposites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyre_and_Gimble/pseuds/Gyre_and_Gimble
Summary: Mark isn't the only with with egos to wrangle.You had almost convinced yourself she didn't exist, this darker side of you.  It's been years, and she's been silent this entire time. But when you are drawn back into the void by unfamiliar forces, your alter ego has a bone to pick.  You locked her away, ignored her, gave her nothing but time to stew in hatred and resentment - and now she wants out.The many egos that make up the Markiplier Story World (MSW) got me thinking: he can't be the only one with egos like this... right?  And if that's the case, what do these egos look like?  What do they want, and how do they affect their hosts?This is my first published work on AO3 - comments and constructive criticism are very welcome!
Relationships: Darkiplier/Reader, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, Ego/Darkstache, Fem!Reader/Darkstache, Reader/Ego, Warfstache/Reader, darkiplier/warfstache, darkstache
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a shameless and unrepentant Darkstache shipper; I want nice things to happen to these boys and started writing a story to make that a (pseudo)reality. Old and new ideas started piecing themselves together and before I knew it I'd written 30,000 words of this garbage. 
> 
> This is the first thing I've written creatively in actual years - mostly I write in academic and professional capacities now. The MSW is fascinating, its characters complex, and its story simultaneously tragic and delightful enough that I couldn't resist throwing my hat into the ring. 
> 
> I will admit up front that the first few chapters are rough, but rather than re-write them I'm going to post them as they are; I think it's valuable to observe how one's writing changes over time, not only for purposes of self-improvement but also to open up discourse about the writing process and acknowledge shifts in style and proficiency.
> 
> Blah, blah blah - please enjoy!

You startled awake, as if you’d dozed off while leaning against a wall. Your feet found themselves quickly, but not before you took a first clumsy step and fell forward onto the ground – 

The ground? 

Yes, ground – dirt and gravel and rocks, mottled together in browns and greys. But you didn’t remember going outside.

What did you remember?

Your mind resisted your probing questions; it wasn’t as if you weren’t capable of recalling – the memories were there, you knew it. But there was something in your way, like a wall, and when you pressed against it, it wasn’t just unyielding. It hurt you.

With a strangled cry you stumbled forwards, landing painfully on one knee. The pain inside was seething and angry – you couldn’t say where it was, what part of you it was hurting, but it was deep; a deeper and more desperate pain for how close to your core it burned. You felt sure that you would die if it didn’t stop soon. 

Then, suddenly, it did. You were kneeling on the dark ground, gravel and stones biting into your knees and the palms of your hands – you had thrown them out to catch your fall. Hadn’t you? You brought them up and saw they were shaking, marbled in angry purples and reds with a few small stones stuck to the sweat coating your palms. Your breath came shaky and short and you decided to take your time picking gravel from your hands before anything else.

You stood, knees trembling, and looked around you. You were at the top of a hill with a shallow slope; what you had thought was a wall you leaned against was actually a tree, a massive old oak, gnarled and bare. A rough dirt and gravel road stretched in front of you down the hill and onward, and it was at this point that you realized where you were.

You felt something cold tighten in your chest as you took in the stone tower in the near distance. From where you stood it appeared to be only two or three stories tall, but you knew that it went much further down than that. The single entrance – a heavy wooden door – was readily accessible via a short flight of steps that sat at the end of the rough pathway leading from the road to the tower entrance. You knew that, past the visible part of the structure, there was a sheer cliff into which the remaining five stories were built. There was no horizon line past it, nothing else visible in this space; aside from the light cast by the full moon, all around you was inky blackness, as if this place existed outside of time and space. Which it did. 

You had designed it that way.

Breath still unsteady, you made your way down the hill, trying deliberately to think of nothing. An empty mind was a safe mind; she couldn’t take or manipulate thoughts that didn’t exist.

At least, you hoped so. 

You mounted the short steps and moved to open the door. It saved you the trouble by drifting open on its own. You stood there for a moment, arm frozen in the act it hadn’t been able to complete, before you let it fall to your side. You steeled yourself and walked through the door.

The light-making orbs that lined the spiraling staircase downward had mostly been broken or fizzled out, but there were a few left that sputtered out enough light for you to see by. Going down these stairs again after all this time triggered flashbacks of previous visits: building this place in secret, without her finding out, had been no easy feat. It’s hard to hide things from someone with whom you share a mind. You remembered visiting her the first few times, the things she said, the things she begged you for, the sweet promises she made and the rage that flared around her when she realized she wasn’t going to get what she wanted.

She'd tried so hard to get out. You tried not to think about what happened when she did that. You tried also not to think about what it had taken to trap her here in the first place.

You tried not to think about what it would mean for her to have escaped.

The air grew colder and damp as you got deeper down, and fewer and fewer lights were functioning. You gently removed the brightest available one from its place and whispered words you didn’t think you remembered. You loosened your grip experimentally, and after a few seconds the orb began to float, taking its place behind your left shoulder. You smiled at that.

You had forgotten how special this place could be.

You weren’t surprised to see that she wasn’t where you had left her, in the great big cell at the bottom of the tower. You _were_ surprised to see that she had not been content to simply escape confinement – although you probably shouldn’t have been. The thick bands of metal that once made up the cell’s door were twisted and torn apart. You stepped cautiously forward, all too aware that you were unarmed, unprepared, and still unsure of why you were here at all. That thought niggled at the back of your mind. You had only ever come here under your own power, will, volition – whatever. You hadn’t been sure how this stuff had worked when it was all happening and thought it was vain to presume that you possessed some kind of preternatural ability to create pocket dimensions, or something just as silly. You were just a person with an especially destructive inner demon that, somehow, you had managed to lock away in a corner of your mind. You supposed this was your brain’s way of coping – creating an imaginary world where you were the powerful one.

_What a silly little thing you are._

Your breath caught in your throat and you froze. That voice… Her voice.  
She hadn’t left.  
She had been waiting for you.  
And now there was nothing to keep you two apart.

_Just how I like it, darling._

Tears prick at your eyes, but you find the will to move forward. Inside the cell her destruction is breathtaking. The chains and shackles that had been held with reinforced iron spikes to the stone wall were ripped out, taking huge chunks of masonry with them. The stomach-level dais in the middle of the cell with its wide-mouthed bowl on top remained relatively untouched, sporting only a single wide crack up one side. You remember using it to show her things, your problems, the worst things that you had endured, and her wrath – one part of you you’d given up – had proven an important influence, when controlled.

Bluish light filtered in through the grate at the very top of the tower, and as a dark cloud moved across your starless sky and out of the way of the moon that was always full, you saw the writing. The scratching. The hateful and obscene things she had carved into the stone. Your eyes roved across the floor and up the walls, and you realized that the writing went up nearly to the top of the tower. _How…?_

That laugh, high and whimsical, almost pretty to hear, put your heart in your throat. You silently chastised yourself for the tears that had begun running down your cheeks. _I’m such a coward…_

_My thoughts exactly,_ the voice growled. 

The breath was knocked out of you as something rocketed into your chest and threw you against the stone wall. Your head snapped back painfully with a sickening crack and a small part of you wondered if you could be concussed in here, if it would follow you back out into the real world. Your vision was blurred, but you could feel her there, holding you in place by your upper arms, your feet barely touching the stone floor. You remembered this pain, the crushing strength she commanded, and wondered dispassionately if she was going to take this chance to kill you.

She scoffed. “Please,” she drawled, “don’t be so dramatic, _mother.”_

 _I hate it when she calls me that...._ Given the dark laughter that followed, you resigned yourself to the fact that none of your thoughts were private while you stayed here.

“What would you rather I call you, hm? My jailor? My absentee parental-figure?” She leaned closer, close enough that you could see two luminous points of green enter your field of view. “Sweetheart?” She murmured this last, leaning forward to put lips to your ear. Heat rushed to your cheeks as her tone became plaintive: "I’ve missed you so much.”

The world had nearly stopped spinning, though you were sure the pounding in your skull wouldn’t leave you for some time yet. Blinking back tears, her form began to take shape in front of you. You were finally able to get a good look at her and were surprised to find that she still looked… exactly like you. Well, not exactly; she was a few pounds lighter, an inch or so taller, with beautiful brown-gold hair and eyes the color of –

__

“Jade,” you choked out. “Nice to see you. Been a while.”

__

Dark lips and white teeth formed a shark-like smile. “It has, hasn’t it?” Her hands squeezed your arms more tightly, eliciting a cry of pain and an ominous creak in your bones. She adopted a tender, almost loving look. “Oh, I’ve missed those sounds you make,” she said sweetly, “so lovely and _pathetic_.”

__

On that last word her grip tightened further, and she pushed your body harder into the cold stone behind you. You couldn't suppress the pained sound you made. Her eyes flashed, teeth bared in a horrible snarl, but as soon as the look came it was gone again, and she was relinquishing her vice-like grip on your arms. Without her support you fell to the ground in a heap, holding yourself delicately. She knelt down, reaching out to you, and you flinched. For some reason that seemed to give her pause, her beautiful hand frozen in midair as you cowered against the wall.

__

“Did I really hurt you that badly?” Her voice was soft and small and insecure. She got to her knees and inched closer to you. You hated it when she did this, flipping through emotional stances like an impatient child with a television remote. _Some things never change._

__

She either didn’t listen to or didn’t care about that thought. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.” She squared up with you, shuffling closer still. You were impressed; if you hadn’t known better, hadn’t been taught the hard way, you might have believed that she was capable of sincerely apologizing for anything.

__

“It’s just been… lonely,” she murmured. “Day after day, week after week, year after…” You kept your eyes fixed on the stone beneath you, gently rubbing the feeling back into your arms.

In an instant her hand is at your neck and squeezing, hard. You moved to stop her, to grab her wrist and wrestle yourself free, but you realize with horror that you can’t move your arms more than a few inches. They’re sore and dead, and all you can do is twitch them feebly.

__

Jade continues her torment. “My sweet girl,” she says in a low voice. “My darling, dearest girl…” The hand around your neck remains locked in place, but her other one finds a new home on your hip, and you can’t fully suppress a sharp inhalation.

"It's been a while for you, too, hasn't it?"

__

“Is this what you want?” she asks in that same low tone. “To spend the night in a dungeon with your better half?” She sneers and tightens her grip. “You really are just a filthy –”

__

She falls suddenly silent, and you flinch reflexively. Silence from Jade usually meant that explosive rage or physical harm was imminent… 

__

But nothing happened. Cautiously, you open one eye, then the other. You’re still sat on the floor, back against the wall, with Jade’s hands around your throat and over the hem of your pants, respectively. Her eyes were… changing. You risked eye contact to get a better look. Something was flashing in her pupils, like shadows of red and blue light trapped in a matrix of static.

__

Jade’s eyelids fluttered, the strange light flashing in her pupils one final time before finally winking out. She blinked hard and seemed to come back to herself, looking at you with confusion. Her hands remained in their ominous positions as she said calmly, “Who’s been trying to get into your head?”

__

It was your turn for bewildered blinking. “W-what are you talking about?”

__

Quick as a cobra Jade’s hand withdraws from your neck. She sits back, eyes distant. “I felt it,” she says dreamily. “I felt... them.”

__

You flexed your fingers experimentally, relieved to find that you were regaining feeling and, hopefully, the ability to move your arms.

__

“They’re so... dark...” Jade trails off and you realize that you’ve never seen her pay so little attention to you. Not a bad thing, you decided; you would need to exploit this if you wanted to get out of here alive. 

You capitalized on Jade’s distracted muttering and try to sort through what you knew for certain. You knew that you hadn’t brought yourself here, and you knew that was very much out of the ordinary. Could you be dreaming? Was Jade able to influence your dreams? That hadn’t ever really been her M.O.; she liked to see you scared and relished your discomfort and fear. The only way she could learn to affect your dreams would be for her to practice. _How long has she been able to do this?_

You were fairly certain the tower existed only in your mind. You had always assumed it was some kind of elaborate coping mechanism to help you put the most dangerous and painful parts of yourself where they couldn’t hurt anyone. Jade was the embodiment of all of your worst impulses, and you had long ago realized that these feelings were too powerful for you to ignore.

Life before your split with Jade had not been pleasant. On-again off-again relationships with people who manipulated you, who made you feel weak, kept you busy for the better part of your young adult life. You remember being unable to sleep as the strident voice in your head berated you for putting up with it all.

“You’re disgusting,” you remember her bellowing at you as you lay curled in bed. “No wonder nobody wants you - look at you! You’re a pathetic mess. Why do you even try?”

Your wavering pleas for her to stop had gone unheeded, and things went on like this for months on end, until they became years. Nearly every night for the better part of a decade you listened to her, and every time you got closer to believing what she said.

You remembered reading somewhere that children can dissociate from their surroundings when under stress or subject to abuse, sometimes going so far as to invent an imaginary friend or another version of themselves that they believe is better equipped to deal with what’s happening to them. Learning that had put you somewhat at ease, but the relief was short-lived once you realized what Jade was capable of. 

It started off as daydreaming, or what felt like it. You imagined what it would be like to be her, this more powerful, beautiful, confident version of yourself. Then you had started forgetting things you'd said to people, making plans you had no memory of later, and a few months down the road you had started losing time.

You were pulled out of your reverie by the sound of shattering stone and a guttural shriek of rage. “Who is it?” Jade demanded. “Tell me, you fucking tramp – who else has been inside your head?”

“I don’t know,” you hoarsely assured her. “Please, Jade, I’m telling you the truth.”

She whirled back to face you, breaking the slab of stone she was holding into pieces before stalking back to your place against the wall, eyes wild. You stared each other down for what felt like an eternity until, to your great surprise, Jade’s shoulders relaxed. The scowl disappeared from her face as she cleared her throat, rotating her neck with a series of pops and snaps.

“I believe you,” she said at last. 

_What the hell is going on?_ This is NOT the Jade you know… 

_People change._ The thought came unbidden to your mind. But Jade wasn’t a person – she was just... pieces of you, the bad, dangerous pieces that could hurt people and delighted in doing so. She was the closest you thought you could ever get to being evil, delighting in pain and chaos and the misery of others.

Something like that isn’t – couldn’t be – a person. Right?

“You should really be more mindful of your audience,” Jade said casually. She leaned back against the dais, arms crossed. “If you keep this up my feelings are going to get hurt.”

A retort burned, fizzled, and died on your tongue, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth and an angry flush blooming up your neck. You tried to stand but quickly found the room spinning. You _had_ hit your head pretty hard.

Before you fell back to the ground you felt something move in behind you, keeping you up. You looked around, confused, only to find that Jade had somehow appeared at your side and was holding you upright.

“What are you...?”

“Hush,” she says, low and even. “Let’s get you someplace more comfortable”

This certainly was a roller coaster of an evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MSW = Markiplier Story World


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade's had nothing but time to think of how she could escape the confinement into which her host has locked her. She's practiced and rehearsed, and now all the has to do is execute.
> 
> It's all a farce, obviously. She would never deign to speak truthfully or in earnest with her host. Of course she doesn't really feel this way.
> 
> Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tangentially related to the "Bench Talks" series co-authored with @lacrimalis, although set sometime after the sublimation of the three entities that make up Dark. The main difference is that this is:
> 
> 1\. Written only by me;  
> 2\. Therefore a little rougher around the edges;  
> 3\. Also fairly self-indulgent
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated!

Jade didn’t see the point of working hard when she could work smart instead. Navigating the void with her host was harder than going by herself, and so rather than bringing her to a point already established and further afield she worked with what she had. Minimal effort conjured up a sofa and armchair in a half-realized room encroaching upon the murky darkness of the void. She set her host down on the sofa and perched herself in the armchair. She waited a few minutes while her host’s head was spinning before she began to speak.

“Look,” Jade began, crossing an ankle over her knee, “I know we haven’t always been... kind, to one another. We’ve got a pretty hard history. I took your body from you when -”

_When you didn’t deserve it._

“- you needed help, and you kept me locked in a cold, dark box for ten years. I think we can agree that we’re both sort of in the wrong, here.”

The host cradles her head, nursing the ache Jade knew she’d put there. Jade did her best to turn her derisive sneer into a warm smile. “So, I propose,” she continued, “that we try to start fresh. You and me, here and now: why don’t we talk things out?”

The host shook her head, wincing. “When has that ever been how you solve your problems?”

Jade felt her pleasant veneer crack. “I’m sorry?”

“Everything you’ve ever done, you’ve done without asking.” She looked like the effort of talking was making her ill. Jade hoped that was so. “Everything you’ve ever taken, you’ve taken by force. I might be vulnerable right now,” her host conceded, “but you are never getting out of here. I will do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, if it means that you can’t use me to hurt anybody.”  


This was… unexpected, but not unforeseen. The host generally preferred concession to conflict; it seemed, though, that she may have grown slightly.

How cute.

Jade constructed a mask of resigned disappointment and wore it for all it was worth. “I understand,” she said. She had thought about making her voice watery, like she was about to cry, but too much was riding on her host believing what she said next.

Jade folded her hands in her lap and cast her gaze slightly downward for good measure. “I’ve never given you a reason to trust me,” she said. “In fact, all I’ve ever done is give you reasons not to. But, please, I just want you to hear me out.

“We’ve never talked about how I was made, or why, but I think we both have a general idea. You had two problems.”  
Jade lifted one hand, palm facing the sky. “First, you were unhappy. Bad things were happening to you and the people you cared about. You couldn’t shoulder all of that on your own -”

_Weak._

“- and there I was to shoulder it for you.”

She raised her other hand. “Second, some of your feelings were... how to say this politely...”

“Out of control.” The host massaged her own temples.

Jade smiled. “Yes, exactly. All of those emotions in one poor little girl, lost and lonely, constantly afraid, ashamed of her feelings.” She leaned forward, compressing the darkness between the chair and the couch so that the two grew closer. “But none of that was your fault.”

The host recovered herself enough to sit up straight and cast a doubtful glance at her double.

_Is it working...?_

Jade continued: “You’ve always said that I’m the worst parts of you, right? Cruel, greedy, blah-blah-blah - the whole nine yards. What you don’t seem to understand is that, I don't like those parts of you any more than you do.”

Jade let a heavy silence interrupt her for a moment. “But I don’t have anywhere for them to go,” she said. “You did what anyone would do, had they the power. You took your worst impulses, your most harmful traits, and you locked them away.”

This was the tricky part. Jade met the eyes of her host, suppressing a purr of satisfaction when she saw that she had her undivided attention, as well as what looked like her pity.

Perfect.

“I don’t get a break from them,” Jade said, letting her voice tremble slightly at the end. “They’re all here, inside of me, all the time.” She compressed the void further, drawing herself still closer to the couch. “How can I be a good person if all I am is the parts of yourself that you hate?”

If she had been smarter, the host would have replied that Jade was not, in fact, a person, and that this attempt at manipulation, while impressive, meant nothing. If she had been smarter, she would have tried to leave the void the moment she could.

Good thing for Jade that she had hit her head so hard.

Jade moved in for the kill: “I don’t know what I am,” she admitted, “but I’m more than just bad judgment and misanthropy. I’ve had nothing but time to think since you-”

_Left me to rot._

“- have been gone, and I want -“

 _To make you bleed._  
_To hear you cry._  
_To make you suffer._

_To hurt you so badly you want to die._

Jade played off her prolonged pause as a lump in her throat. “I want to be... better.” It left a sour taste in her mouth to say it, but it would be well worth it if she succeeded here. “I want to come back.”

“Jade, I’m sorry, but -”

“Please just give me a chance,” Jade blurted out. Despite herself, despite the number of times she had rehearsed this conversation, desperation was creeping into her voice. “I mean it - I’ll do anything you want, whatever it takes, if you just...” Jade pushes out a shaking breath; no screaming, no scaring, be patient... “If you just let me out, please. Just let me out.”

_Let me out._

_**Let me in.**_ A rumble at the edge of the void...

_What...?_

_**Let me in.**_

Jade pushed back. _Let me out._

_**Let. Me. In.**_

_Let me out let me out let me -_

_**Well, well... what have we here?**_

Jade’s eyes flickered; her vision was reduced to white noise and shards of blue and red light. That voice - whose voice was that? The host seemed not to have heard it.

She was speaking; Jade heard her only distantly, rejoining the conversation at “... take the risk, but maybe we can compromise. I’m not saying yes - you do not have my permission to leave or move into my body.”

Jade couldn’t suppress a sigh. The void had few enough rules, but ever since she had been locked up one of them was that Jade needed the host’s permission to relocate. _No matter..._ she told herself. _We’ve done the hard part._

But who the fuck’s voice was that?

Jade inclined her head towards her host. “Thank you for listening. Things will be different this time, I promise.”

“Jade?”

“Yes?”

The host stood to leave, setting Jade with a hard stare. “Don’t insult me by making promises you won’t keep.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade meets the person behind the voice she heard, and learns that there is more to an ego's existence than the dark and dismal void.

Jade spent the next stretch of time poking around for the source of the voice she had heard. After speaking to her host, she felt better about her chances of egress and so devoted her time to re-exploring her prison, this island of desolate matter. It was a weight off her mind, really. So many years of planning and dreaming and counting the days and shrieking her name into the void just to hear something – 

She started back at the tower, even though she didn’t really want to. It was the one fixed point she had in the void, though, and she’d be damned if she got lost again and missed her chance to get out. All she had to do was wait until the next time her host came back.

That jogged her memory: how _had_ the host gotten here? As Jade had watched her arrival from afar, she had seemed surprised to find herself on the hill with the tree, stumbling to the ground with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. Jade snickered at the memory, but the longer she mulled over it the more she felt compelled to investigate the tree.

Jade had long ago learned the value of pacing one’s self when faced with unlimited time and very limited space, so she walked rather than simply moved herself to the top of the hill. A feeling was taking shape low in her belly, but she couldn’t quite place it. It grew in intensity as she drew nearer to the tree, which seemed to grow taller and loom over her as she approached. Reaching the crest of the hill the air seemed to thicken, and a flash of realization hit her:

Dark.

Darkness was encroaching, like the swift arrival of night, but there was no day or night here – just a starless sky and a pitiless, unchanging moon. It was at this point that Jade remembered the name of the feeling that was buzzing in her gut.

_Excitement._

She stopped an arm’s length away from the dark, barren oak tree, and stood, reveling in this novel  
feeling. When was the last time she had been _excited?_

Slowly, deliberately, Jade rested a hand on the gnarled bark of the ancient oak and started to slowly move towards the opposite side. That was the first time she saw him.

Haloed by darkness, he wore a grey suit that was complemented by dark, unkempt hair, combed to the side and just covering the top of one eye. He leaned against the tree, arms crossed, with the sole of one shiny black dress shoe resting against the bark.

For a long moment neither said anything, looking each other over. Jade was distracted by his aura; it positively oozed power and control. She’d never had a reason to feel self-conscious about hers, since she’d never had anything to compare it to. Now, though...

Slowly, he took one step forward, raised a hand to his chest, put the other behind him, and gave a shallow bow.

“Dark,” he introduced himself. When first she had heard his voice, she’d felt nothing but contempt and fury. Up close, though, the distorted rumble was lovely to hear.

“Jade,” she replied.

He smiled. Jade liked it.

“I must say,” he began in a voice that echoed, “I’m surprised that you and I haven’t met before.”

Jade shifted her weight carelessly, crossing her arms. “And why is that?” 

She held her ground and set him with a level gaze, feeling energy pool together inside of her. Dark’s smile widened into a toothy grin and he seemed to draw in the darkness around them to such an extent that the rest of the void seemed brighter by comparison.  


“I get around,” he finally replied.

Jade didn’t bother concealing her smirk. “I’ll bet you do,” she said, taking a casual step to one side. Dark matched her movements, pacing along with her until they were both circling at a leisurely pace. She felt her aura flare up wildly, uninhibited, as the buzz of her excitement grew stronger. Dark’s eyes lit up in response, red light flashing over black.

“How did you get in here?” Jade asked him.

He shrugged, never looking away from her. “I have my ways,” he said.

Jade snickered. “Please don’t tell me your only shtick is ‘tall, dark and mysterious’ – no one likes a drama king.”

He faltered, his form shattering into different poses and expressions; bent over and cackling insanely; hands out and flexing, mouth open in a furious scream; a slight incline of the chin and a lascivious light in his eyes. It was almost like he was… glitching.

As quickly as it came, the glitch was gone again, and Dark resumed walking in time with Jade. He tugged at the lapels of his blazer after adjusting and smoothing down his tie. Jade grinned. This was going to be fun.

“Struck a nerve there, did I?” 

Dark’s smile returned, but there was something sinister behind it. “A lot of talk for an ego incapable of overtaking her host.”

Jade hadn’t had anyone to talk to – let alone to talk back to her – in a long time, and she was out of practice in keeping up pleasant appearances; why bother when there was no one to admire or be fooled by them? She was nonetheless startled when the sting of his insult made her body contort, molding her features into an ugly snarl, stretching and tugging at her limbs as sounds of rage erupted from her throat. As her roar reached its apex, she felt her body dissolve, fading back into the void before it released her and restored her preferred form: young, female, beautiful. She resumed pacing in time with Dark as if nothing had happened.

“Touché,” she said calmly. “But enough about me.” She stopped walking, and so did Dark. “Let’s talk about you.”

With a thought Jade moved them to the place where she and her host had talked earlier, again taking the armchair for herself. Dark sat in the middle of the couch, hands folded, legs crossed – the very picture of calm and collected.

 _I want to break it_ , a part of Jade’s mind whispered.

 _Patience,_ she replied.

“Why are you here?” she said bluntly.

Dark smirked. “I like someone who knows how to get straight to the point,” he crooned. “Very well: my host can be… crowded.”

Jade frowned. “Explain.”

He chuckled. “And direct as well,” he said with admiration before his expression sobered. “There are eleven of us –”

“I’m sorry – what?” Jade interrupted incredulously.

Dark paused, all traces of mirth replaced with a steely glare. “Eleven,” he repeated, biting out the syllables.

Jade’s curiosity overrode her caution. “In one host?” she insisted.

 _ **“Yes.”**_ Dark’s aura flared, and Jade was reacquainted with another feeling: fear. He seemed to duplicate and stack on top of himself like layers in a painting - beautiful, but terrible.

“Okay,” she said, raising what she hoped was a placating hand. “That’s just… I’ve never had to share space with anyone. It caught me off guard.”

Dark began to say something, but stopped, his expression unreadable. “You’re the only one?” 

Jade nodded. “Yeah. Just me.”

“Hmm.” He knew how to use silence, Jade would give him that. He smoothed over his hair. “We should all be so lucky,” he hissed venomously.

_I’d let him ‘envenomate’ me…_

_What the hell?_

_You heard._

Jade crushed the internal conversation. Dark continued: “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that you are in a very far corner of the void. It’s no wonder you couldn’t escape, without a second anchor point.”

Jade felt a thrill of pride. She was right about how the void worked. How many more things was she right about? How much more could Dark teach her?

“I seek such places out when I am in need of privacy. The other egos can be… taxing.”

Jade realized that she was starting to feel something she didn’t like. It was hard and heavy, and it sat in her chest, weighing her down, slowing her breath. She wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by so many people that she got sick of them and needed to be alone. 

“Fortunately, today, I found you instead,” Dark finished with a warm, rumbling sound Jade liked very much.

The pair continued to talk for what could have been mere minutes or entire ages, two small, dark flames flickering together in the vast and empty void.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Jade... a person? You've never thought of her in that way. You made her - you think - by separating out your worst impulses and locking them away; isn't she just the personification of your unsavory traits?
> 
> If she isn't... do you owe her another shot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to stop the chapter dump here for a little while, at least a few days, for things to percolate and to give myself a chance to re-work and implement improvements in upcoming chapters. I like this story - I think it's interesting, and it's a good way to stretch my writerly muscles! But I want to give things a chance to settle before I upload more. 
> 
> If you've read this far, you have my very sincere thanks for giving me a shot! I don't think there's any reason for me _not_ to own up to this, so I will confide in you, dear reader, that I am desperately afraid of sharing my work. I wrote creatively almost nonstop for years, but that was a long time and years of college ago. I'm about to finish my BA and head to graduate school, so the majority of my writing has been academic for a long time. Thanks for taking this journey with me as I dip my toes back into creative writing!

You heard nothing from Jade for three days and began to wonder if she was serious about trying to do better. Going back had been dangerous, you knew that; that was why you hadn’t gone to the tower yourself in years. Had it really been as long as she’d said? You recalled the scratching in the stones of her cell and remembered seeing hatch marks - the kind prisoners are known to make to track their time in confinement. You couldn’t be sure without going back to check, but they had seemed to take up a sizable portion of the wall and stretch up to the ceiling…

You propped yourself against the refrigerator, drinking your third cup of coffee of the day. A glance at the clock on the wall told you it was six fifteen in the morning. A heavy sigh slumped your shoulders and you rubbed at your eyes. Sleep had been elusive despite your best efforts, but you couldn’t really blame yourself. Upon your return from the tower you realized that you had, in fact, been asleep when you were pulled in. Just because Jade hadn’t made a habit of using your dreams in the past didn’t mean she couldn’t do it now. That was the only explanation you could think of to account for your sudden appearance there.

You moved into the living room, taking a seat on the couch after partially opening the blinds to let in the early morning sun. It was bright enough to make you flinch, but warm enough that you didn’t mind. You leaned back with another sigh. You had been having unsettling dreams for a while and wondered if those had been Jade, slowly stirring awake. You hoped that was the case, but doubts were pulling apart the threads of that idea the longer you entertained it.

If Jade had learned how to draw you in while you were sleeping, that meant that she had been awake at least long enough to teach herself how to do it, maybe even since she was put there in the first place. A pit formed in your stomach when you considered the fact that she might have been “awake” the entire time, all these years, and that by itself would have been horrible enough to keep you awake at night.

You thought about the implications of locking a person away in a cold, dark tower for years on end with no human contact – not even the sun to occasionally warm their face, as it warmed yours now – and felt deeply disturbed. That’s a punishment cruel and unusual enough to have been forbidden by the Geneva Convention. You thought about that a lot, too; if Jade was a person, like she said, with thoughts and feelings, then you were potentially responsible for torturing a woman to the brink of insanity.

The coffee was bitter towards the bottom of the mug and you set it aside. You tried to justify your actions – trapping Jade – by recalling the things she had done to you when she had figured out how to take over the body you shared with her. You had lost friends, partners, even a job or two, all because Jade hadn’t liked the way you conducted your life. Her endless litany of torment and abuse had dragged your self-regard through the mud and worn you down to such an extent that you had landed yourself in the hospital twice. Turns out “my inner demon takes over my body and makes a mess of things” isn’t a reason people will accept when they ask you why your behavior has been so erratic. It was shortly thereafter that you became determined to find a way to keep her out of your life. Years of therapy and re-inventing memories almost had you convinced that she didn’t exist at all. 

Almost.

Did you owe it to her to at least give her a chance? What if she was just manipulating you again so that she could ruin the life you were just beginning to put back together? 

What would it mean if you pretended none of this had happened, locked that door back up and walked away?

And what did she mean when she asked you who else had been in your head?

You felt ill, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just the extra coffee.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark shows Jade some of what she's capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a relatively short one, mostly because I don't think it needs to be longer; we're establishing some of the void's rules, exploring the growing relationship with Dark, and moving forward with Jade's education. Thank you for reading, and if you have thoughts or suggestions, I would love to hear them! I hope you enjoy!

Dark had been teaching her things – about the void, about egos, his theories on where they came from and why, the roles they played in the lives of their hosts. Jade was a quick study and eager to learn. He seemed to appreciate that, prodding her to test the boundaries of what she thought was possible. It was the first bit of fun she’d had in a very long time.

Jade knew she was growing attached to Dark – a true portent of disaster – but she couldn’t be bothered to care. Anything she held onto for too long inevitably soured or twisted into something ugly, like all of the relationships she had masterfully ruined for the host. No matter; she would enjoy this while it lasted. She couldn’t bring herself to eschew a distraction after so long in isolation.

“Are you ready?” Dark’s voice sounded as though he was right behind her, but as she looked up, she saw him clearly at the top of the tower, leaning forward with his hands clasped behind his back. From her position at ground level, she nodded, stretching her neck and shoulders.

“What are you waiting for, then?” he chided. “Get up here.”

Jade was only too happy to oblige.

Tapping into her newly realized power, she drew from the void and slowly built up a small stockpile of energy. It surged into and through her, a creeping pressure that crawled up her throat and into her head. It was like a hit of morphine, a pleasant, deadly sort of breathlessness.

Just before she felt she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she released the energy back to the void, using the dark reaction to swiftly change form and move at breakneck speed. Up and up she went until she reached the tower’s parapet. Once all the void energy was spent, Jade resolved herself back into her usual form and landed on her feet, grinning wickedly at Dark. 

“Did I pass?”

God, but his smile was beautiful. “With flying colors.” His low voice was ever-so-slightly distorted.

Jade couldn’t have contained her joy if she’d wanted to.

_Joy?_

Her face went blank as her thoughts slowed and her focus retreated inward. Dark had helpfully informed Jade of her “freezes” – moments wherein her movement abruptly ceased, her eyes went vacant, and she became oblivious to her surroundings. They normally only lasted a few seconds, but sometimes…

_Joy? Have I ever felt joy before? Do I even know what that is?_

Her second internal voice had begun to take a clearer shape. _What do you mean? We’re feeling it right now._

_No, but… I guess it doesn’t matter._

_Don’t think too hard. Just enjoy this while we can._

When Jade came back to herself, Dark seemed a little closer than he had been. Jade wrote this off a consequence of a sloppy landing.

“This one will be better,” she insisted, turning to jump down from the tower. The physics of the void were kind to her; a three-story drop was nothing.

A sudden pressure around her wrist stopped her, jolting her away from the edge. She looked back at Dark quizzically. His hand was cool, but not cold, his grip insistent without being painful.

“Not yet,” he said. Jade felt more than saw the shift in his aura. Like before, the void around him looked a bit brighter in contrast to the darkness he was drawing in. Jade felt her own aura flicker openly in response and heat rushed to her cheeks. 

_Blushing? Are you serious?_

… She would have to work on that. Her aura was broadcasting her feelings too blatantly, and it wouldn’t do to surrender the emotional upper hand – although Dark’s smile suggested that she may have already done that.

“How would you like to get out of here?” he rumbled, the space between them narrowing further, his hand still firm around Jade’s wrist.

Jade stiffened, giving him a pointed look. To his credit, he took the hint and released her, keeping his hand open and off to the side, as if to show that there was nothing up his sleeve. 

“I don’t know if I can leave,” Jade said flatly, not bothering to conceal her disappointment at the shift away from exertion and experimentation. She wanted to keep learning.

His voice was lowered to a growl that did things to her aura again and Jade felt herself quickly becoming flustered. “I promise, I’ll have you back before curfew.” 

“Where?” she said, looking anywhere but in his eyes.

“Anywhere you’d like to go,” he said easily. “We won’t be gone long.” He leaned forward, placing his lips just shy of her ear. “Unless you want to be.”

Jade managed to keep her aura from exploding around her and counted it a win.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark tells an old friend about his new one. Wilford has a different perspective on Jade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember earlier, when I said this series is self-indulgent?
> 
> I'm too much of a sucker to keep myself from sharing something I think is witty; there is an exchange towards the end of this chapter that is purely humorous, completely diverges from the lore of "Bench Talks" (w/ @lacrimalis), and, frankly, should have been cut. However, it makes me laugh, and I think it might make you laugh, too! 
> 
> TLDR: don't take the humorous bit too seriously.

Dark stepped from the cold embrace of the void and into the second-floor hallway of the Markiplier TV studio. This was the hub, the main anchor point, for the egos and the place to which they all ultimately returned. He was hoping to find one, in particular.

He straightened and smoothed down his tie, securing the second button on his jacket as he made his way down the hall. Wilford was instantly visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass that served as the conference room’s interior wall; he sat one chair away from the head of the table, a newspaper concealing his torso, feet propped up on the glossy mahogany surface. Dark felt a stab of irritation, blinking into the conference room instead of announcing his presence by using the door.

“Off the table, Wil,” Dark snarled, swatting at his brown loafers and noting with suppressed amusement that he was wearing mismatched socks printed with cupcakes and llamas.

Wilford made a series of blustery, startled noises, legs flailing as his feet suddenly dropped to the floor. He managed to save himself from falling by catching an elbow on his knee. He looked up at Dark, glasses askew.

“Dark, old boy!” he exclaimed, tossing the newspaper aside. Its pages fell out of order as they floated to the floor, and Dark’s lip twitched. Wil flung his arms wide, not bothering to fix the glasses that hung precariously between one ear and his nose. Distracted, Dark wasn’t quick enough to avoid Wil taking him into a crushing embrace. One of the main differences between the two was one of body type: where Dark was toned and sinuous, Wilford was all broad shoulders and lean muscle. 

“Oh, Darkness, my old friend, how I’ve missed you!” Wil exclaimed. He took Dark by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking him over. “All in one piece, are you? All six limbs accounted for?” He chortled at his own joke, wriggling his rosy mustache.

Dark cast off Wilford’s arms with two quick movements. “You know I don’t like it when you mistreat the table, Wil,” he muttered angrily, reaching out to remove Wil’s glasses.

Wil ran his thumbs under his pink suspenders. “Well, Dark, you’ll have to excuse my lapse in memory – not what it used to be, you know.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And no wonder I forget, when you give me conflicting instructions; you didn’t seem to mind ‘mistreating’ it the last time we were in here, eh?”

Dark rolled his eyes, turning away and assuming his seat at the head of the table. “I need your advice,” he grumbled, rubbing at his forehead.

Wil sat back down, sliding close and propping his chin up on the heels of his hands. The way he was jutting his chest out reminded Dark of an old pinup model. “The great and powerful _Darkiplier_ needs advice from his good friend, Wilford? Well then, darling, speak up! I’m all ears, all for you.”

Dark glared at Wil, whose expression faltered slightly. He responded by leaning into the act, blowing Dark a kiss and winking. When that failed to get a reaction, Wil huffed and slumped his shoulders.

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, waving a dismissive hand, “I guess we’re doing the whole ‘serious adult’ thing, huh? Well, I can do that too.” He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, scowling at Dark. “Is this better?” he groused.

Dark sat back. “Getting there,” he conceded. Wil sighed dramatically.

“I met someone,” Dark began. That got Wilford’s attention; he compromised his glare by raising an eyebrow.

Wil’s voice was inquisitive and bloodthirsty. “Are we making wedding arrangements, or making war?” Dark began to explain what had transpired, his meeting with Jade and his impressions of her. As Dark spoke, Wilford’s expression vacillated between keen interest and mischievous glee. By the time he reached the point in the story at which Jade took sudden umbrage at Dark’s intrusion, Wilford was sitting forward and stroking his mustache thoughtfully.

“She’s clearly powerful,” Dark concluded, “although she’s so isolated as to have little idea of what she is actually capable.” He smiled wryly at his friend. “Sorry to disappoint, but there’s no need to sound the war horn just yet.”

Wilford folded his hands contemplatively in front of his mouth. His mustache twitched over his knuckles as he asked, “And you’re sure she’s the only one?”

“Yes,” Dark replied. He sat back, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket. “Her host must not have especially strong demons,” he observed, “for them to all fit within a single ego.”

Wilford’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “Dark, my dear– that ego is all the more dangerous _because_ there is only one of her.”

Dark frowned. “What do you mean?”

Wil toyed with his mustache, eyes lost in the grain of the conference table. “You said her host can keep her there? Prevent her from leaving?”

Dark was growing irritated. “Yes, what of it?”

Wilford was silent for a long moment. 

“Some of us,” he gave Dark a pointed look, “might be able to hold an extra soul or two, but could you imagine if all of us tried to fit inside one of us?” He chuckled, “Well, that sounds – that would just be silly, but what I mean is – look, if you’ve got something dangerous, like _really_ dangerous – you know, radioactive waste, ex-boy- and/or girlfriends, the specter of permanent death – you need a strong container to hold it, right?”

Dark cocks an eyebrow. “What are you getting at, old friend?”

Wil abandons his analogy and puts a hand on Dark’s shoulder. “I’m saying that we need to get that hot little ticket on our good side, and fast. And as we all know, the fastest way to a woman’s heart is –”

From his position in the corner of the conference room, the Host says, “There was a moment of silence before all the egos piped up at once.” 

Dark and Wil look at him sharply, Wil raising a finger in objection. “Now I know I’m a little absentminded but I’m sure I would have noticed –”

The image of Dr. Iplier sticks its head through the conference room door. “A scalpel?”

Jim and Jim emerge from under the table. “Breaking news coverage?”

Bim Trimmer stands between Wilford and Dark, bracing himself on the backs of their chairs. “Earnest campaign promises?”

The grate securing the vent in the ceiling clatters onto the table, revealing the King of the Squirrels. “Nut butter?”

Dark’s aura flares wildly. **_“Where the fuck have you all been hiding?”_**

The other egos are gone nearly as quickly as they came, the dimmest among them readily aware that Dark’s ire is not something to trifle with.

Wilford is sitting back in his chair, lost in thought, as Dark composes himself. Once the auditory and visual disturbances of his anger recede, Wil pipes up. 

“Now, hear me out,” Wil says cautiously, “I know it’s not your usual M.O., old sport, however –” he looks around to make sure they were alone again – “you and I both know that the fastest way to a woman’s heart is…?”

Dark sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go on then, Wilford.”

Warfstache deflates somewhat at that, but quickly regains his animated gesticulating. “Well it’s the same as the fastest way to a man’s heart: their stomach,” he declares, patting his belly for emphasis.

Dark sets him with a stern look. “Wilford.”

The pink mustache wriggles. “Eh, yes, Dark?”

“We are not vivisecting them.”

Wil has the good grace to look scandalized. “Now, why on _earth_ would you think –”

“Because of that one time you vivisected somebody. When you decided the fastest way to their heart was their stomach.”

Wilford pauses, contemplative. “Nope,” he says finally with a shrug, “don’t recall that one, Darkness – you sure you’re not slipping in your old age, hm?”

Dark narrows his eyes. “We are the same age,” he points out.

Wil waves the protest away. “We’re getting off topic – the point is that we need to make these ladies feel welcome! It’s an awfully cold void out there, and the material world isn’t much better, I’ll tell you.”

As if Dark could forget.

“So,” Wil says in a tone that wants something, “I propose we invite them over! Out on a date! Whatever! Didn’t you do that at some point?”

“A long time ago,” Dark says to the table.

Wil at the very least senses his discomfort. “Well, then, perhaps not a ‘date’, per se, but think on it, won’t you Darkling? It would be a shame to miss out on all the fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think.


End file.
